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Iacon General Hospital Physicals
Iacon General Hospital - There are many hospitals in Iacon, but none as prestigious and well equipped as Iacon General Hospital. The numerous state of the art facilities housed within the hospital offers around the clock emergency repairs, upgrades, and mundane upkeeps. Iacon General Hospital is staffed by many of the Autobots' brightest minds where the non-combatants can do their part in contributing to the war effort. Like sand through the hourglass, so our the days.. oh wait. Wrong soap. Actually, this player has never seen 'General Hospital'.. so let's just get to the scene. Autobots from across all walks of life are lined up outside the main annex, their numbers stretching down the hallway and around the corner. Military buffs, Scientists, Inventory Analysts, Snipers, Weapon Specialists, Shipment Procurers.. all called here for the same reason. Physicals. Even the Autobots must take measures to make sure all their troops are in tip top shape, this being one of many! And so, each individual is carted off to a lobby to wait for whichever 'doctor' waits on them. The term doctor is used loosely, because in times of war.. what passes for a doctor is usually anyone who has -limited- knowledge in the field. And so, Specter is here.. already having been sat in a lobby marked 'CROSSHAIRS' on a dry erase board. Others are here too, all looking anxiously around to the fellow next to them. It's no easy thing, to wait for someone else to criticize your physical fitness.. or lack thereof. The Albino Operative taps on his seat's arm-rest, *TAP* *TAP* *TAPTAP*. That is, until the look from a nearby ally alerts him to the annoyingness of the habit. "Apologies." Specter softly speaks, ceasing the tap-a-tap-tapping. Specifically at the moment, Crosshairs is providing some direction to the medical staff in question -- though he is not actually participating in the actual exams at the moment. He appears to be more busy with comparing data and test results, and other overall 'strategic' matters of the situation. IE, the general health of the 'populace' and the folks who come in for their exams. As such he is lotering around the semi-private areas. Unfortunatly, it is at this point that a subordinate reminds him that he has a cubicle with his name on it and after a frown and a mild curse he puts down his test results and goes to see if anyone has been waiting. And it seems that he has not only a lineup but that Specter is already present. He pauses, just outside. It WOULD be that one, wouldn't it? Grunting to himself and putting away whatever his feelings at the moment are he enters the cubicle. "Won't take long." He says. "Anythin' that we ought t'know about? Burrs in actuators, power fluctuations, heat distribution problems?" Backblast stands in line with everyone else, watching the line. He gives Specter a nod and a smile, professional-to-professional, then glances up at the autobot supervisiong the checkups and... closes his optics with that expression of 'oh no, not him'. Rumour has it, he and Crosshairs had quite a major bust-up on the Radio Basin mission. Rumor would also have it, Specter ratted Crosshairs out to Command for.. questionable circumstances during a recent space adventure. :) -Technically- Hot Spot wasn't even that. His medical knowledge was limited mainly to what counted as the cybertronian version of paramedics, having a submode equipped for repair work, and having to listen to -numberous- lectures on everything from rust rash to ener-vascular care from First Aid more times than he'd ever be able to count. You had to admire the mech's dedication to the job, but really, sometimes even Hot Spot got bored listening. Really he had just initially come by to check on the survivors from the Radio Basin operation. But being the overly helpful Autobot that he is, he's stuck around in case he was needed to help with something, or should an emergency come up and he can help keep things from getting too hectic. Right now that 'help' was mainly him playing go-for so the real medics could get parts and tools they need without leaving their assigned lots and slowing down progress farther. That and due to First Aid's extremely rigorous maintenance scheduals for his own team, Hot Spot already had his physicals for the time being. Decibel exits a curtained area with a smile, "See doc I told you I was fit as a fiddle, no need to haul my chassis down here to be looked at and waste your time." Stepping to a terminal to see if he has any waiting messages he's accosted by an intern who hands him a stack of data pads. "Hoist said to give these to you sir." Is all the tiny mech manages to say before scrambling away before Decibel gets a look at what they are. Sorting through them is smile quickly dissipates as they all seem to be patient files. "Who the frak listed me on the medical duty roster this cycle? Somebody is going to have their aft in a sling for this." Grabbing pad one he gives it a once over and moves closer to where some of the other staff have areas, slipping a pad or two into each as he goes. A point on the floor. Where two tiles once met, one has been cracked. The hairline fracture runs parallel with the groove itself, until crossing over about halfway through. Inbetween the cracked tile and the adjoining one, debris and dust has already started to collect. No doubt, festering hidden dangers.. disease or Robo-Bacteria. One day the cracked tile will bring this institution down on it's knees.. crashing down all around them. When addressed, Specter is instantly snapped out of his day dream.. the imaginary disaster of Iacon General Hospital quickly fades from thought. "In truth, minor irritation in rotator cuff.. left shoulder." Specter replies, nice even tone without much hint of any emotion. Upon Backblast's nod, the Autobot replies in kind with a curt nod. "Curious, Crosshairs.. to see you 'volunteering' here." "Don't look at me, I don't write the scheduals," Hot Spot replies in passing as he walks by Decibel with a box of parts for one of the medics doing an actual repair job. There is a toneless grunt from Crosshairs, who picks up a scanning unit and begins to go over the shoulder that has been complained upon without giving much more of an indication as to his mental thought process. Does he even see Backblast? Oh, yes. He gives the other a long look that is devoid of malice, but devoid of warmth as well, and then resumes hsi work on Specter. "Why is that such a surprise?" He asks Specter, working to keep his tone moderated. "I don't ask others t'do something I wouldn't do myself, even basic medical operations. And last time I checked, I was Operations Commander, so this is kind of my operation t'volunteer at." Then he is quiet until Decibel pipes up again. "You'll have t'blame me for that one." He says to the Intel CO. "Said that every bot that knew their job ought t'be here. Iacon's not a small city, an' we need to make sure everyone gets seen to. Last thing we need is a scraplets outbreak among the lower city." Backblast just waits quietly in line to get checked over, glaring occasionally at the 'no smoking' sign. He twitches slightly in his chair in the waiting room, pulling out a small bar of soft metal, flavoured with silver nitrate and copper sulphate. He puts it into his mouth and starts chewing - Autobot gum! Lifting his arm, Specter shrugs with the other shoulder. "No offense, but at a preliminary evaluation, you do not appear to be the.. charitable type." Wow, straight to the point.. this one doesn't beat around the bush! "No offense, of course." he smiles, which is just oh-so rare for the Autobot shy-guy. In truth, Crosshairs is lucky Specter didn't hide up in the rafters for him and jump down.. scaring the robo-jesus out of him. Then again, it's probably also fair to say Specter is lucky he didn't do that either.. no doubt the end result would have been bad for both parties. "Also, minor energon emissions are easily detected during covert operations.. twice in the last ten cycles has this led to visual spotting and loss of.. 'the drop'." Specter adds in, looking to the side to note Decibel with a nod of his chin. "Or that is how Jazz describes it." Backblast smirks quietly as he overhears the minor energon emissions. Specter's got the farts? That'll get a laugh at the SJ barracks. Wait 'till Fanfare hears about that one! Decibel has managed to thin his list a bit before others begin to talk to him so he considers it a small victory as he goes over to where he's supposed to be. "Plenty of civilians eager to lend a hand that we could have let them handle this. I'm sure we could all find better uses for our time than making sure everyone has their tires properly inflated." Taking his first patient that offers him a laundry list of complaints from rust rash to a faulty brake lights Decibel suddenly wishes he had a bottle of vicodin to start popping. With no such luck on hand he starts looking over the yellow mech and his list of ailments. "Seems to me to be pretty dangerous t'make assumptions on someone ya don't even know." Crosshairs says lightly, in an almost blithe tone as he reaches for a circuit probe instead of the wide angle scanner. "Might surprise ya to know I volunteer with . . . " He pauses to count. "Nintety three explosive ordnanace teams across t'world. S'ides, who do ya think the chair of t'African Mine Disposal Organization is?" His head shakes, just a bit of bitterness coming out finally. "I don't make judgements on you, or at least I try not to, and I'd 'precciate it if you want t'judge me, you do it on the whole, 'stead of one issue ya didn't agree with." The circuit probe beeps as it gets it's results back. "Mm." He says. "Based on what I see here, I can kinda get an explanation fer that. Looks like y'were originally built t'run fairly silent, but either age or somethin' else has not only caused inefficiencies in yer primary closed fuel loops, but . . " He shrugs. "T'fix that, you'd need a whole fluidic processin' overhaul." He seems to be thinking for a moment. "Have t'wonder if we couldn't do better than what was already there, though." He interrupts his musing to look at Decibel and Hot Spot. "I don't suppose you two would mind lookin' after Backblast? He's been waitin' a bit, and I'm gonna be busy here for awhile." Hot Spot was just poking his head in to see how it was going when Crosshairs calls them out to help, anyways. "Sure thing Crosshairs. We really don't want to have to hold things up any more than necessary. I don't think we're even halfway through the lines yet!" Who knew there was still so many Autobots around? Then again, probably not a surprise. They just stayed scattered out until they had a city to actually populate to. Backblast can't help but overhear Crosshairs, looking up with a raised eyebrow. He remains quiet, however; he's expecting, sooner or later, a 'talk' with the older Bot, and he suspects it's not going to be pleasant. He called him something pretty unpleasant, especially for an Autobot, and kinda was /slightly/ insubordinate - an act which got Crosshairs injured, badly. He looks relieved when Decibel and Hot-Spot are called in to do his medical check, standing up to be led into a cubicle. "You.." Specter trails, searching for the right word to express his thoughts. "misunderstood my intent, in declaring that.. Crosshairs. It was not a judgement of said personable character, merely a passing observation.. preliminary." the Autobot dutifully reports, then winces when the circuit probe starts fishing around his innards. "But true, I was not aware of your rather.. numerous volunteer excursions on Earth." Specter finishes, giving Crosshairs another odd glance. "Original pre-war model frame was retrofitted with the needed light weight metals and high technological advances of the time, to render successful results." he chiefs out, looking a bit hurt. It doesn't help that they were advances ahead of their time, only you know.. when Straxus led the Decepticons. "Better?" "I'm just tryin' to make a point that you ought not t'judge someone completely by what happens durin' stress. Sometimes, folks do a lot that ya don't know about, and y'ought not to write them off before y'get to know them." He pats the other on the shoulder, even as the probe beeps again. "Anyway." He says. "Back t'business an' all. Yeah, t'was all innovative and such, back when I was repurposin' mining lasers into anti-armor weapons. We evolve an' things change a bit here an' there. We've come out with a few more efficient systems. But . . " He taps his chin. "If'n y'could find enough sound dampenin' equipment, a more efficient energon recyclin' converter . . " He taps his chin some more, studying the various schematics with the rapid eye of someone very used to this. "Could prolly reduce yer energy signature alot by keepin' the large fluid lines in the core, and spacin' out the others away from other sources of heat an' energy production and.." He's rambling and he realizes it. "Bottom line, if'n I had t'parts . . I think I can make ya a little more masked to sensory detection. It's doable. Need some trial an' error and a list of parts a mile long, but if ya got time... I can do it." Hot Spot does better than a cubicle (since most of them are already being used), he finds an open space in the chamber and clunks down into his repair station form. Without the defense cannons since he doesn't need them here, hopefully. A small seat deploys in the front for Backblast to sit down on, actuator arms standing ready on either side. "Just make yourself comfortable.... well, as comfortable as one can in a medical facility." Parts shift and work arms deploy, forming the Protectobot repair station. Backblast settles into place in the seat and watches Hot-Spot, still listening to the pair. "Hey." He calls out. "Happy to help if you need. Didn't mean to listen in, but... well. I got ears." He chuckles quietly, adjusting his position in the chair. Occasionally, he glances at Crosshairs nervously, as if expecting to get his paint stripped at a moment's notice. Once Backblast is within the bay the dual actuators extend over his shoulders and angle their tips back to scan over the Autobot seated within. "How you holding up there slugger?", Hot Spot's voice is a bit more electronic in this form, due to emitting from the station's controls instead of a normal vocal apparatus. And kept a bit lower than his usual go-getterness -- while it's impossible to have a private conversation in a busy place like this, he at least wants it to be somewhat personal. "You took a pretty hard hit the other night." And he's not talking about physical injuries. "No unusual clicks or glitchs to worry about? Or issues with recent mods?" Sit-Com enters the hospital. "Don't worry chief, I'm ALWAYS on duty!" the Junkion says, "Go-go, gadget tools!" A panel slides open and his toolbox pops out. "No judgement was made, sir. And what stressful event are you describing?" Specter plays dumb, left hand on the right shoulder as the arm rotates around. "Possible circuitry and or diode malfunction, piece missing qutie likely the culprit." the Autobot speaks aloud, continuing. "All things considered, above satisfactory job accomplished!" Hrm, where have we heard that before?? "List of advancements acknowledged and accepted. If at all possible, would you be able to develop.. some sort of imagery device to help aid stealth operations?" Backblast chuckles "Doing fairly well, chief." He agrees. "I'm fresh outta stasis, this is just a formality I reckon. No major issues to report at all, to the date; I've more been shot to frag than had any long-term difficulty." One thing Hot Spot will notice is that he's got a brand new pair of respiratory filters in. Fresh off the shelves this morning. Most of his repairs seem well-seated, though his brand new aquatic system hasn't been run in yet. Decibel facepalms as the yellow mech he's still working with starts adding to his list of woes. Wondering why fate has given him this individual to deal with he tries to explain that a small paint scratch is not rust rash nor is a magnatized screw stuck to a fender scraplets. The Iacon General Hospital is currently being used as a giant waiting room, select rooms being cordoned off for technicians, medics, doctors, or any Autobot with a shred of medical knowledge to sign off on the troops physical check-ups. Robot Physicals. At least he changes the air filters! First Aid would probably still give him heck for the smoking habit, but at least the mech is trying to take care of it and himself in spite of. A digitalized chuckle emits from the station. "I see you got that amphibious hardware you were looking for. Good! Probably see a lot of use if the Decepticons continue to shack up on that island." The arms continue to shift back and forth, up and down, but the scanning doesn't seem to be finding anything so far. "Trust me, we all know how the being fragged to the Pits and back goes." All too well. Crosshairs emits a little bit of a grunt. "T'imagin' system is a good idea." He says, glancing once over his shoulder at Backblast before continuing with his conversation that is directed at Specter. "You'll probably need to do both of 'em in order for it to work. If you only hide the visual aspect, t'energy discharges are gonna give ya away." After a moment though, he taps his chin anew. "I s'pose I can probably work somethin' up but that kinda technology is pretty rare an' arcane. But, I was watchin' the global news . . . apparently a clothin' manafacturer on planet Darroby Nine, came up with an idea of makin' someone invisible when they had their jackets on by routin' light around them, and displayin' front to back or somethin'. Prolly a lotta bullhonkey, but. Go get me one, so I can see how it's done, an' . . . " He rips off a piece of paper from a nearby printer. "This list of spare parts, an' we'll see what we can do." Backblast chuckles quietly and nods "Yeah I'll bet mate." he agrees. "Still, how am I lookin' doc?" "Certainly, does nothing miss your anal attention to detail?" Specter actually chuckles, strange enough.. but stranger still, considering the company. Still, even if their ideals don't match identically.. neither would allow a petty rivalry to impede the actual work they've both devoted their entire lives to. "Darroby Nine?" Specter inquires, typing it into his datapad as they speak. "Searching now, and you have my thanks." he nods, accepting the print out of spare parts. Growing silent, the operative looks around and makes sure to lean closer for his next statement. Specter mutters, "Is there a specific angle to this, or are you once again being.. charitable?" to Crosshairs. Ah, physicals. Checking out the nuts and bolts. Telling patients to turn their heads and cough. Not only is Sit-Com a Doctor, he plays one on TV! "Please state the nature of the medical emergency." Protectobot Repair Base emits another digitalized chuckle. "Technically I'm not a doctor, at least not fully. But being part of emergency response ops and the Protectobot commander, my paramedical training tends to overlap... hold still a moment." One work arm raises brightly, switchs its tip to a small manipulator grip, and pokes into Backblast's neck joint to wiggle around a bit and click something into place. "One of the colaterial relay cables in your neural infrastructure was shaking loose of its socket. Might be a side effect of your recoil inducing weapon in vehicle mode, considering it was just a looseness from vibration gyration and not direct damage." There's a long pause as the workarm retracts, and then Hot Spot chuckles weakly. "Case in point, I'm not ever sure of half of what I just said, I was just paraphrasing from this form's medical databank." Backblast chuckles quietly. "One of my major cables was shaking loose." He translates Protectobot Repair Base says, "Well it's a good thing it was caught beforehand then! And people say regular check-ups are a time waste." Pause. "Granted, enough of us end up in here needing to be outright repaired often enough you get parts replaced and a semi-regular basis when necessary." It seems like Crosshairs is at a quandary. The old mech is busy crossing off and making an alteration to the list. After Specter leans in for his quiet question that is. Finally after a good minute, Crosshairs turns his armored head to him. " . . . I ain't bein' charible. See, regardless of my personal feelins' which I'm tryin' not to let a particular unfortunate situation alter, I'm in this fer everyone. Yer an Autobot, an' it's my responsability to help ya in any way I can. I don't let personal issues come 'tween me and my work. Believe it or not, I actually take my duty seriously. I don't just look at this Autobrand as somethin' we carry fer show, despite how many folks like t'tell me I don't deserve to wear it as of late." He points his thumb towards the exit. "If that satisfies yer questionin', I've got lots to do." He makes no attempt to be stealthy at all, unlike the other's questioning. Backblast glances over at Crosshairs from his situation within Hot Spot's chair, chuckling. "Especially me. I need a fix-up after nearly every engagement. The big ol' ninety mike-mike makes big holes, but... well, I was never designed to handle that kind of kick, even if my altmode was. I still get hurt when the old girl shouts" "Well." Specter replies, at a loss of words. Really, he was just wondering if he owed Crosshairs a favor. "It appears you are rather busy, and having already spent approximately one point seven six the allotted time for my.. check-up, you have my appreciation." Slumping off the seat, he makes his way for the exit.. then abruptly swivels in place, back around to face Crosshairs. "Regardless of what -you- might assume, some are able to forgive the past and live in the present." And with that delivered, Specter disappears into the long line of Autobots littering the halls. "Prehaps someday a technician will be able to do something about that." After a final sweep both arms retract back to the base. "I don't see anything else though, so you should be good to go back onto duty." Mentally Hot Spot winces a bit at the comment from Crosshairs' station, but keeps it to himself. Backblast steps out of the chair and nods. "Thank you, Hot Spot." He looks over at Crosshairs. "Sir." It's a very measured 'sir'. The kind of 'sir' that asks 'do you want to shout at me yet?', without actually saying so. "Good." That is Crosshairs' response to Specter. He doesn't seem bothered, nor does he seem to be emotionally affected at all. It appears he made his statement, or said his case as it were. When Backblast catches his eye, and the expectant look, Crosshairs waves him on. He apparently understands the tone, because his response is: "Not now." And with that, he calls the next paitent in and settles in to concentrate on his work unless someone else bothers him. Backblast nods, and responds with a similar "Sir." He looks around. "So! I've got the medical knowledge of a smoked electrokipper. How can I help?" Protectobot Repair Base pipes up, "I can take a few more Bots over here, too," in an effort to try and lighten the load off the other hard working medics."